I write this for you my Undomiel, the Evenstar of my heart. I am leaving this Middle Earth and it grieves me that I am, but I must.
I have spent several weeks writing in this journal for you, my love.
For I know I am leaving you bereft of a mother's love and counsel when soon they will be needed most.
I want you to know first, you are always in my heart and I cannot tell you how much my decision has been made lighter by knowing some day I shall see you again.
Here then, are my notes and thoughts about life here with your father and brothers, and my life in general. They are not in perhaps, the most coherent of order.
I wish I had thought to do this sooner, and now my energy and thoughts are somewhat hard to discipline to this task.
Note too, that dates are few as they have less significance to we to whom time is just a mantle across our days.
I hope that within these pages you will find joy and hope, insight and solace into who I am and perhaps even, who your father and brothers are.
And more importantly, who YOU are my Arwen.
And our lives, all entwined here
In Imladris.
You have heard many times the story of how your father and I first met.
I, a heedless young she-elf secure in love and position as only the sole child of Celeborn and Galadriel could be.
I was silly, if all be told, my Arwen.
I pursued my studies, (especially herbs and healing though I was never the healer your father is, it was one of the things we had in common), I climbed trees, I rode my favorite mare with the highly original name of Alfirn, I sang to the night stars and slept in the swaying boughs of the mallorn trees.
I could not have been happier.
Until the day that an embassy came from far Imladris to my home. And headed by the most handsome elf I had ever set eyes on.
My mother dismissed my immediate interest saying I was more taken in by his midnight dark hair than any fair arrangement of his features.
Oh, but Arwen, trust me when I say you will know the hour, the very minute your true love crosses paths with you.
And no matter how many leagues may separate you, you will pine only for he. No beauty in all of Middle Earth will cover his face from your heart's eyes.
You will see him always.
And your heart will burn until there is pain.
Your father, though all of a mighty elf lord in his own right, I could see was a bit awed by Father and Mother.
I will tell you this my love...Mother and Father frequently counted on their imposing histories and their magnificent selves to give pause to any guest in Caras Galadon.
They were actually rather amused by Elrond's slight nervousness, which as you know manifested itself most awkwardly at the formal dinner to greet his company that first night.
When, trying to raise a toast to Mother and Father, he missed his reach for his goblet and knocked it all over the snowy linen before him.
His ears blushed!
My heart went out to him and truth be told, it never came back from his gentle and loving care.
From that moment onward, I was his.
When we finally met on our own, though I cannot swear my Mother or Father did not have someone watch to make sure we did nothing...foolish,
I was tongue tied and your father, though attempting to give me formal greetings as befitted the Lord of Imladris, found himself unable to go on, and his words petered off into silence.
I could only stare into his deep dark eyes, like two windows into the eternal night. I found I was mesmerized and it was sometime before I felt his arms around me or the soft kiss he allowed himself to place on my cheek.
I remember more his scent, like deep pine woods and high mountain air. The feel of the silk brocade upon my bare arms. His tall form and his strength enveloping me.
And then of course, I remember his mouth.
(Do not blush my Undomiel! Soon, that will be something you will remember most clearly about your beloved!)
Mother and Father, as you know made us both wait some years before they would let us wed formally.
But as I said, distance and time were little to us. We sent many, many letters, some of which I have given you already. And even though our visits together were well chaperoned, I will let you know that your father and I got very creative in the ways and means of stealing kisses and caresses.
We were of two great lines and it was not a wedding to be decided on in haste or to be done with out everything perfect down to the weather and the scent of the breezes.
But as with all weddings my love, everything ran as it willed, no matter who the imposing parents of the bride were.
We did not have rain of course (it would not have dared). No, no, it was a lovely day full of sun and flowers and the faintest of zephyrs to cool the nervous bridegroom and his equally nervous bride.
He was resplendent in white...though it is a color he does not wear much, it was a tradition that we both be in white as if plain pieces of snowy parchment upon which our lives together would be writ.
I put a hole in my hem as I stepped up to my parents to say my vows. And your dear father, at the wedding feast, dropped a honey cake on his beautiful white robe, which was encrusted with seed pearls and mithril threads and made him more beautiful than moonlight.
But he did not notice it until Mother gently removed it with a napkin from the front of his robe where it had gotten stuck, saying nothing.
You will never forget your wedding Arwen.
And more, your wedding night.
I will not go on and on about our union except to say I never wanted the night to end, I never wanted your father to leave my bed and I never ever wanted to be without his love both physical and mental.
And the blossoming of trust, like a young tree and the twining of souls that occurs when two elves wed is the most blessed experience you will have my Arwen, no matter who your soul mate is.
The twining of souls binds you as no golden band or formal vow can. You could be one in the uttermost snows and ice of the north and the other in deep Far Harad and both of you and each of you would know instantly if the other was sad or happy; in good health or bad.
This never goes away love. Never.
And when the two of you are joined body to body, your souls blaze deep in warmth and love and this more than anything sustains your spirits. It renews as nothing else can, your vows to the other.
And the long lovely trip back to Imladris Arwen.
How beautiful Middle Earth is! The different trees and mountain vistas, the plains and rivers. Our wedding trip to Rivendell remains in my mind a wonderful journey of joy and discovery, both of the world around us and of the new world that just your father and I inhabited.
We learned much of each other's likes and dislikes on that trip.
Your father is not fond of trout (all the little bones).
I am not fond of rabbit to be honest, no matter how it is presented. And both of us of course will eat either of these foods if offered to us.
But we care little for them.
Your father is not fond of purple.
I am however fond of the color, mostly in roses and delphiniums. You will notice that your father never has purple flowers in his study. And usually prefers green grapes come to think of it.
I love being held in your father's arms.
He is rather fond of tickling...especially in unexpected places.
I love the scent and feel of his skin.
And I know he is very fond of the nape of my neck. He has whispered
kisses there many, many times.
And we both love sleeping under the stars.
But I will say, though it was a wondrous trip, it was even more wonderful to know we were getting closer and closer each day to our home together in Rivendell. And since I had never seen it, I was all a flutter to view its beauty.
And of course, your father did not hesitate to describe its glories in great detail.
Remember that much of your father's heart is in this place Arwen. He built it from the soil and rock up. He designed most of the gardens and the placement of the outer farms, the bridges and the fountains. He made the final decisions on the stone and wood and glass used throughout the house.
Though I, of course, once I moved here, designed many gardens myself.
As the company ascended the steep grade that would be the last rise before we reached the Vale of Rivendell, your father, romantic that he is, decided to wrap my eyes with a silk scarf before I saw the House.
So imagine my delight, Arwen, when after the descent, we reached the first lookout point on the northern trail.
One of the most breathtaking views of Rivendell there is my love, as well you know.
Because outriders had gone on ahead days before, the House was a blaze of lights as were the near gardens. The scent of jasmine sweet and thick floated in the air as we sat there on our horses entranced.
The fall of water was everywhere....... and the singing!
Oh Arwen, the singing that night, it had no equal in my memory.....and I believe it was every voice in the Vale I heard and it blended with the wind and the water and I swayed, overcome by its beauty.
I would have fallen from my mare if your father had not leapt from his horse to sit behind me and wrap me in his arms.
And thus, I rode into Rivendell, carried before your father, wrapped in his love and surrounded by a melodious symphony of music and lights that my heart nigh on took flight.
This, then, my love, was my first impression of Rivendell.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~to be continued~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
